Cold whispers flow like a river stream
Fiery words rising like steam

Stories woven like twigs and leaves within the evergreen treetops
Poems spoken like gentle morning rays, floating down like raindrops

Pictures as still as an ancient wall
Film rolling like a large rock ball

Miserable cries echoing from a forlorn hall
The susurrus of time calling us all

Thousands of clocks ticking towards a single hour
Bells signaling the coming minute, the sweetness of life turned sour

Down the deep, churning river
The ferryman rows silently, his eyes flashing silver

Cold air billowed past
Shaking the small wooden mast

Left or right, you may not decide
Judges stand high, as you wait beside

For the clock to finally stop
And let your tired eyes finally drop

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